Closure in Companions
by Aristosarcastic
Summary: He thought that survivng that bridge would be the end of his troubles--that he could begin a new life. The military had other plans. Made to march along the other survivors, Nick considers what he's been through...and what lies ahead. One-shot, Nick's POV


**AN:  
**Short little one shot. Take it however you'd like. I just finished The Parish recently, and couldn't help but wonder what the fate of the survivors would be. If the writing on the wall was anything to go by, I imagine their outcome is a very uncertain one.

Then again, that lack of clarity was probably very intentional on the developer's part--give people the opportunity to ponder, I suppose.

Well, this little one-shot is written after the helicopter ride away from the bridge ends, and sees the survivors being marched in a line on a barren mountain path. And like the game's ending, you can decide the outcome of this ending as well.

Told from Nick's POV and all of that.

No real pairings, but you could incorporate this as a bit of Nick/Ellis if you wanted. And if you don't want it, you can perceive it as a strong camaraderie.

It can't end like this—God damnit, this is **bullshit**! I'll be fucking damned if I made it through the zombie-FUCKING-apocalypse with barely even the skin on my ass intact, only to be shoved against a wall and filled with bullets by some bastards in hazmat suits!

I knew it was coming. I even tried to warn those stupid fuckers. "Does anyone want to talk about this before we go straight towards the people who have bombing us?" I said—to which a chorus of blatant 'no's were my response. Now look where we are. I almost wish I could be mad at the other three…I really fucking do. That'd make this a lot easier to do. It'd make getting shot in the next few minutes a lot more bearable if I could just make myself mad at them.

But…I can't. As they march us along this thin mountain path, guns at our backs, fronts, and sides, the only comfort I have is being with Ro, Coach, and Ellis. It's a cold comfort, but it means more to me than I can make sense of—shit, these guys are like family. Not family like my family, who I think the majority of should still be incarcerated at this point, but family like you hear about in the t.v. shows when you're a kid. People who genuinely care about each other and would go through hell and high water for each other—it'd be damn endearing if we weren't about to die at the end of it all.

Shit, Disney could've made a holiday special about it! A shady conman goes to the south, goes through a zombie apocalypse, and finally learns the value of friendship. Goddamn, I feel like vomiting a rainbow just thinking of it.

Even still I'm joking about it. Even as I see the chipped fence and more military men distantly down the path, I'm being sarcastic. This can't be real—it doesn't feel it in the slightest. This isn't the way God is supposed to act, is it?! Isn't his whole way of working to put people in horrifying situations to force them to learn and grow from it? Well, if there is a God, his sense of morality must not reach to the South. Not that I can blame him— no one in their right mind would want to spend any amount of time in this hell-hole.

They're mumbling to each other now, our 'escorts'. I can't hear what they're saying, but I'm sure I can guess. "Hey, Jim, what're you going to do when we splatter these carrier's brains against the walls?" "Oh, I don't know. Maybe go on a nice walk, shove my head up my ass, the usual". I look back at Ellis—right behind me in the line they're making us walk in. His head is hanging, staring downtrodden at the soil I've already walked on. Even Ellis looks like he's lost all hope…they've even managed to rape that out of him. Fuck, I really want to help the kid! As annoying as he is, it's like looking at a bleeding kitten. I just…wish there was something I could do to give him hope. At this point it'd be all false hope…but maybe if he could die without the same feeling of dread I'm having, I might not hate it quite so much.

Y'know, if you're out there God, you're a real dick. Soon as we got out of this mess, I thought I'd make a real attempt to get to know the kid—isn't that what Christianity teaches people to do with life? Be nice, love thy neighbor—all that floofy shit they tell us when we're kids so we don't beat up our siblings. I was going to invite him to come to Vegas with me after all of this shit ended— I was going to be his friend. And I mean a real friend, not the 'business' friends I'm used to. He's an idiot…a simpleton at best, but a genuinely warm-hearted guy. I've never met anyone like him. If you're listening God, I hope you feel bad. I finally actually want to be nice, and you're spitting in my face! I could've been a better friend to him than that Keith he's always talking about was. Ellis glances up at me, as if he's been reading my mind, and smiles at me. No…fuck that. I _am_ a better friend than Keith ever was, and I know I am. I smile back, worn and tired, and hope that he knows that he's my friend too.

I look up towards Rochelle and Coach. I can see Ro's shoulders shaking but she doesn't make a peep—she's trying to hold in tears. I wish I could help them, too. What the fuck am I saying? I wish I could help all of us, but I can't. I'm just making it worse by wishing that I wasn't so helpless. I know what I'm going to do. Hate myself for being so damn useless, and watch as these assholes fill us with led. I may try making a run for it, but they'll get me. Where can I run to? We're on a lifeless, rocky mountain. They'll shoot me when I run, and my body will fall next to the others' at the bottom.

We're placed with our backs against the fence now. Six men are standing in front of us—two with hoses, four with guns. For a moment I feel a spark of hope—maybe the armed men were only our escorts, and they're just here to strip us down and hose us before we go to get whatever shots we need. It comes and passes, and I only feel more ridiculous for it. The men with hoses are only there to spray our blood down the hill, I realize. They can't risk getting an infection from us, now can they?

I hate feeling this bitter too. I never imagined I'd die pleasantly…but I never wanted to die like this; I never wanted to die knowing that three people I fucking care about are going to share my fate. I don't want to die. I don't want them to die! We were supposed to leave this, go resettle, keep in contact, and meet up for stupid little holidays. I swear, if we get out of this, I'm going to celebrate Christmas again. I'll go get a giant fucking ham, glaze it, put on one of those annoyingly festive Christmas sweaters, and carol with these three idiots if we can just get out of here!

The men have stopped talking to one another. A part of me wants to close my eyes, like a kid on a roller coaster when the cart reaches the top of the hill. I can't stop thinking. This whole 'dying' thing would be a lot easier if I could just convince my brain to shut up; there is not peace to be found. I'm going to die in unrest. I'm going to die on this freezing trail, never once utilizing any of the things that it took a damn apocalypse to teach me, and without being able to help a single person...

I nearly flinch when something penetrates the icy numbness I've become accustomed to. Like a sudden jolt of electricity, a warm hand slips into my own. My first instinct is to rip my hand away and give a shocked stare; my mind, for once, reacts before my body can. They've taken everything from us…but we're together. It's a small consolation, but it brings a sense of security to me. If we can forget the horrible way that we're about to be murdered, all that we've come through just to be squandered, all the things in life that we loved…yeah, I guess it isn't so bad dying next to people you care about. I wrap my fingers' around Ellis' calloused hand, my left extending and grabbing Rochelle's. She's quick to respond, her lithe fingers intertwining with my own. I know she's done the same with Coach—I don't need to look over.

I know it's still horrible in some dark, distant place in my mind. I shut that part out—for once, I'll pretend to have Ellis' optimism. I'll take what I can, and give what I can in turn. I'm not quite sure why, but it gives some strange feeling of elation to know that I can offer them this comfort.

To think that we'd only met days ago, on some desolate roof-top. Everything has changed since then—our situations have changed, our relationships have changed, and we've changed. My life isn't flashing before my eyes, but I can almost imagine a hand hovering over the last page of a book to catch my last lingering thoughts. I try and summarize within my own mind…try to find some sort of meaning for this abrupt death. I squeeze Ellis' and Ro's hands tighter, relieved when they squeeze back. There is no meaning for this, it's only reality. The second we stepped onto that helicopter we became government property. Why they didn't just leave us to die on that bridge is a mystery to me.

My eye-lids droop shut as the men before us cease talking and move closer. Every foot-step is magnified in my ears, the heat from the hands I hold burn against me. I try to tell myself that this is it, this is the end, but it brings me no sense of closure.

My closure are these hands I'm holding. At least, that's what I finally manage to convince myself as I hear someone shouting out instructions. With the only alternative to be death while running away…yeah, being with these three isn't so bad.


End file.
